


Blood On Our Hands

by Anonymous



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Bloodplay, Brainwashing, HYDRA PARTY FAVOR TRASH PARTY 2014, M/M, Murder, Rape/Non-con Elements, Triggers, garbage porn, violence kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 08:52:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1773163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people can't stand the sight of blood.  Brainwashed assassins and their handlers are not these people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood On Our Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Hydratrashmeme fill: "Bucky fucked in pool of still warm blood of people he killed merely moments ago."
> 
> Every trigger warning ever, basically. Do not read if you are a decent human being.
> 
> Not my pairing, not my kink, and this is the first fic I've ever written... I have no rational explanation for this.

The mission was complete.

Both targets were successfully eliminated.

As he waited for extraction, the Asset thought about the events of the evening. He knew he did a good job. There was always room for improvement. Hydra rewarded excellence. Hydra deserved the best. It was all for the greater good.

***

"Eliminate the two targets and anyone else who stands in the way."

The instructions, as they always were, were cold, direct, and simple. They dressed him, supplied him with an arsenal of weapons and devices, showed him photos of the targets. They provided a rough blueprint of that fortress of a home. There would be security systems, guards, and definitely a safe room, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. It was a simple routine assassination.

The first few guards were outside, and were picked off easily, from a distance. Only a few minutes setting up the shot from the woods behind the mansion, steadying his weapon, steadying himself, and they all dropped before a panic button could be pressed. Short circuiting the alarm panel and security cameras took seconds. Upon entering, the Asset found the house offensive in its opulence. There was a nagging thought, far away, that it was like something else he had experienced. A museum maybe? He felt like he had been given assignments in museums that felt like this. It was cold, and hard, and very bright. Floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the pool and expansive backyard. Objects arranged in ways that were barely practical for function. Nothing looked used, it didn't look lived in. He hated this grotesque show of extravagance, and the people in it. His boots tracked mud in from outside, leaving dark smears against the marble floor.

More guards, bigger and more competent than the first few, began emerging from doorways and into the hall. They pointed guns at him ineffectually. The Asset shot the first few, his reflexes were much faster than theirs. Another rounded a corner directly to his left as he walked, he picked him up by the neck, crushing his windpipe, without breaking stride.

He reached a dark room full of bookcases, dimly lit. The blueprints he saw earlier showed that the entrance to the safe room was here. Approaching the bookcase farthest from the door, he paused for a moment to verify that it was correct. After a few seconds of contemplation, he ripped it off of its hinges with his good arm, revealing a heavy metal door and a keypad. Applying the correct device to the keypad caused some whirring mechanics to engage, and a crackle of electricity flowed over the door. When the noises stopped, he pulled the door open.

The last two guards fought hard.

They burst forth from the door before he could even see inside, firing their guns wildly. He made short work of them. They came straight out and he was standing far enough to the side to be easily missed in the dark room. He was able to down one of them in a single clean headshot, but the other was more difficult. The final guard managed to shoot his hand, causing him to drop his gun. He didn't even register a flicker of surprise before he pulled a knife from his left holster and threw it at him, burying it deep In his throat. The second guard gurgled as he dropped to the floor. The Asset was lightly grazed, but nothing of concern. A spot on his scalp was bleeding, and his hand was wounded. The bad hand. The damage rendered it non-functional, but that fact was irrelevant. The targets needed to be seen to.

They stood in the doorway of the panic room, looking wide eyed and pale. They were unarmed. Two more shots, and they were eliminated.

Mission completed, he dropped where he was. He would kneel here, examine his mission performance, and wait.

***

Between the two bodies of the guards behind him, and the two targets in front of him, there was a lot of blood. It was languidly pooling, shifting, expanding. The moonlight from the enormous skylight glinted off the bright polished marble and the thick dark liquid. He inhaled, savoring the tangy smell. Rubbing his good hand along his hairline, he felt the sticky mess starting to drip towards his eyes. He savored the feeling between his fingers, and brought them to his lips. He tentatively licked at a single fingertip. After a moments pause, he put two fingers in his mouth and sucked the warm blood off the cool metal.

He watched as the dark mass reached the rug near the center of the room. The stain, looking nearly black, expanded hypnotically. The whorls and medallions of the rug transformed, looking less defined from each other as the red wave moved past them. The room was deathly still, but for the minuscule flow of color across the floor.

He heard the extraction team approaching from outside. They were moving quickly, but quietly, through the house toward him. He listened for them coming, as he watched the crimson line spread and approach another bordered motif on the rug. He was only alone for a minute or two, but watching the blood spread in the dark, suddenly quiet, room made time slow down.

They were just on the other side of the door, and they went quiet. He heard a large man enter the room, closing the door behind him. The Asset turned his head to look over his shoulder, pulling his sticky hand from his mouth. The man at the door was his Handler.

"The mission is complete," the Asset stated.

"Good. Clean up crew is on their way, be here in half an hour. They sure are earning their salary tonight, you made quite a mess in here."

"A lot of blood," the Asset affirmed distantly, swiping his good hand at the edge of the puddle, streaking some across the marble, turning away from the Handler.

"You like it?" The Handler asked with a smirk.

The Asset didn't answer. He didn't understand the question. He continued to stare at the trails he made on the floor, enthralled.

The Handler quickly crossed from the door to behind the Asset, grabbing his hair in one smooth motion.

"You like it. I like it too. Bet it's still warm."

Fingers gripping his hair at the root, the Handler pulled his head back and down, hard, forcing the Asset to look up at him from the floor.

"Looks like some of it is yours, even."

The Handler crouched down next to him, leaned in and licked one stroke broadly, slowly, at the blood dripping down his forehead.

The Asset, overwhelmed by the feeling of his Handler's hot tongue on his face, tried to stifle a moan. The Handler smirked before taking the Asset's injured hand, raising it to his mouth, and licking it in the same way. He prodded his tongue at the wound slowly, looking the Asset in the eye. The Asset shuddered and looked down, planting his other hand, the good hand, down on the floor for support, as pain and heat crawled up from the wound. He blinked back tears as the feelings of pain grew increasingly sharper.

"My thoughts exactly," the Handler growled, dropping the Asset's hand and rising to his feet. He used the toe of his boot to nudge the Asset closer to the rug. He crawled in compliance. His knees and feet were now in the puddle on the marble, and his hands squelched on the wet carpet.

The Asset could hear the metallic jingle of the Handler unfastening his belt. He was going to be rewarded for his good work.

"Kneel." The Handler ordered.

The Asset rose up to his knees being careful not to slip. As he sat up, the Handler walked around to stand in front of him on the stained rug. The Handler was holding his already hard cock in his Asset, slowly stroking it.

"You did a good job on your mission tonight. You have a few more tasks to complete."

The Asset stared, patiently waiting for his next order.

"You are going to suck my dick. Then, I am going to fuck you. Understood?"

The Asset paused a moment.

"Yes." He stated, running his tongue over his lip.

The Handler stepped forward, pushing into his mouth, and the Asset took him in expertly. He drooled as he worked his mouth around his Handler's erection. He used his good hand for extra stimulation, leaving a red streak around the base of it. The Handler moaned, and started thrusting into his pliant mouth. The Asset was easily able to accommodate being face fucked, opening his mouth wider and relaxing his throat. After one particularly strong thrust, the Asset groaned, blinking in surprise. He didn't gag though, he had been trained well.

"You're right," the Handler said, pulling out of the Asset's mouth. The Asset followed his cock hungrily, as the Handler pulled it away. "We don't have a lot of time. Strip."

The Asset removed his boots, jacket, and pants without getting off the floor. He had to be careful with his injured hand, and whimpered a bit when his impatient Handler yanked his jacket sleeve over it to speed up the process. His body was now marked smears of red on his ass, thighs, knees, and arms from changing position as he undressed.

The Handler used his boot to nudge the Asset's legs apart. He knelt down in the puddle between the spread legs. He pressed his hand between the Asset's shoulder blades, shoving his upper body into the mess on the rug. He moved his hand to grab firmly on the Asset's hip, with the other hand he held his cock and was about to press into him, but stopped. He released himself for a moment, and ran his fingers through the puddle. Thoughtfully, almost artistically, he raked his fingers roughly down the Asset's back, marking him with streaks of blood, scratching nearly hard enough to draw his blood. The Asset quietly whimpered in response but did not resist. If anything, he arched his back, which would allow easier access, a show of submission.

After admiring his work for a moment, the Handler plunged in to the hilt. The Asset cried out, before pressing his face into the rug to avoid any future outbursts. The Handler roughly grabbed at his hips and waist, gripping hard, and pulling him hard onto his cock, in time with his thrusts. The Asset's leg slipped a little, and to be sure he wasn't resisting, the Handler freed one hand to reach down and grab the Asset's hair again. He pulled back hard as he continued to thrust into him violently. The Asset hissed in pain, almost pulling away, and the Handler took his opportunity to wrap his arm around the Asset's chest, pulling his upper body up and changing the angle of penetration a bit. He leaned forward and sucked at the Asset's neck, smeared with a slick, sticky mixture of salty blood and sweat. He rubbed his lips against the Asset's stubble, growling into his ear, as he continued pounding rhythmically into him. The Asset gasped, and whether it was from arousal, fear, pain, he wasn't sure. It didn't matter to the Handler.

The Handler stopped run a hand through the pooled blood another time. Then, he reached forward to wrap his dripping fingers around the Asset's pleasingly hard cock. He stopped moving to allow the Asset to move, and he relished the feeling of the Asset thrusting simultaneously into his bloodied hand and pushing back on to his own cock. The Asset tried to hold back a moan again as he worked himself back and forth, dropping again to rest on his metal hand, making a wet sound when he dug into the saturated fibers of the rug. This time it was clearly pleasure. The Handler would allow him this. The Asset looked so savage, raw, as dangerous as beautiful. He was almost covered now in shining blood, bathed in soft light and hard shadows from the skylight above. For once the Handler focused on the Asset, trying hard to angle his cock to hit the right spot, to maintain the ideal speed and pressure of his hand. Quickly, the Asset let loose a strangled cry and came, spurting into the mess on the floor. The Handler released the Asset's cock, and slapped him hard as he came inside him.

As the Handler was still reeling from his own orgasm, there was a loud knock at the door.

"Rumlow! You finished in there yet? Cleaning crew's here."

The Handler stood, pulling his pants up, looking down at the Asset. The Asset turned to look at him, almost pleadingly, panting lightly. The Handler could see that the Asset was still hard, and slowly grinding his erection into the bloody rug.

"In a minute."


End file.
